The Ledger
by MustBeAWriter
Summary: A compilation of Clintasha prompt fics. Will be marked as complete, but I'll add ficlets as I write them.
1. Prompt 1

_*Adding one more prompt fics compilation, b/c I love these two and I've actually started writing for them. This will be just like the other two; marked as complete, but with fics added as they're written._

**Prompt 1: Playing The Melody**

(Clint)

He'll always think it's kind of weird, but he's secretly glad the helicarrier has a music room; complete with a baby grand, three different harps, and a set of African drums.

It's a well-kept secret that Clint Barton plays the piano, and not to toot his own horn, but he's pretty damn good. He'd first started learning when he was seven, and it's the one talent, along with sharpshooting, that he hasn't let slide over the years.

Lately, he's discovered that it's a great way to clear his mind when he's got too many questions floating around up there. And he's been retreating to the music room more and more these days, thanks in part (more like thanks entirely) to his new partner.

When he'd brought Romanoff back to SHIELD in lieu of killing her, he hadn't expected Fury to partner them together. And he's really not sure why they're still partners now. Because one thing he knows about partnerships of any kind is that there needs to be trust if it's going to work. And even after a year of successful missions, Clint's still not sure that Natasha Romanoff trusts him.

Speak of the Devil. She pads into the room, quiet as a mouse. Even wearing heels, she doesn't make a sound when she walks unless she wants to…he'll be forever jealous of that. Her hair's tied back, and she's wearing spandex shorts and a sports bra. She's looking to spar then, so she had to hunt him down. There's no one else aboard the helicarrier that will willingly spar with the Black Widow.

The only show of surprise she makes at discovering he plays the piano is a raised eyebrow. He shrugs and keeps playing, but starts to wrap up his wandering melody. It doesn't take long for her to get impatient.

She surprises him by turning a couple pirouettes and launching into a full-fledged ballet routine. It's all improvisation on both their parts; as he changes the music, she changes her dance.

As much fun as it is, he knows that she prefers to get in a few rounds before dinner, and they don't have the time to do this all evening. So he plays to a natural end, smiles when they stop on the same beat.

He gets up from the piano bench, rolls his shoulders to dispel any tension. "Didn't know you danced, Romanoff," he comments, holding the door for her.

She gives him a cryptic smile, starts leading the way to the gym. "Didn't know you played."

He nudges her with his elbow. "Consider yourself lucky," he says. "I don't play for just anyone."

She stays silent until they reach the gym, then stops him before he can open the door. "I don't dance for _just anyone _either."

She disappears into the gym, and he's so shocked, it takes him a moment to follow her. A thought pops into his head and he grins. Maybe she does trust him after all.


	2. Prompt 2

**Prompt: "You're not alone, together we stand. I'll be by your side, you know I'll take your hand." [let me just say that this is the _less _angst-y version of this that was in my head...you really don't want the other version, I promise]**

(Clint)

He wants to reach out and take her hand, to feel that physical connection, to feel the warmth of her skin and have proof that she's still alive that doesn't come from the beeping of machines.

Unfortunately, simple things like holding someone's hand aren't so simple when you're in shackles.

He's also pretty sure that Rogers or Thor will kick his ass if he tries to touch her. Thing is, he doesn't blame them. If it weren't for the two of them and their "cognitive recalibration", he would have killed her.

Banner's fairly certain that Loki's out of his head, but the rest of them, himself included, aren't so sure. The council is still deliberating over whether or not he's actually committed a crime. The mind control thing is a little dicey. He knew exactly what he was doing, he just couldn't stop himself from doing it.

Banner's tried to reassure him that, if they can get her breathing on her own, she'll make a full recovery. It's a big if. He'd all but crushed her trachea, and her doctors aren't positive it's something they can fix. (There's a rumor going around that Stark's holed up in his lab, attempting to manufacture a new one for her.)

His only consolation is that they stopped him before he could go any further. He knows exactly what he was about to do to her when they found him. It's burned into his memory; plays on an endless loop, so that, even though he didn't do it, it still feels like he did.

He tears his gaze from Tasha for a moment, turns to Rogers. "I never got to tell you 'thank you', y'know," he says.

Rogers' brow furrows. "What for?"

"For protecting her," Clint says. "When I couldn't."

Rogers nods, then steps forward and removes the shackles from Clint's wrists. "You've got ten minutes," he says. "I'll be just outside."

He tentatively reaches out for her, takes her hand gingerly. Her skin is soft and still warm, and he can't help but wrap both of his hands around hers. He places a kiss to each of her knuckles, bows his head.

"I'm sorry, Tasha," he whispers brokenly. "I'm so sorry."


	3. Prompt 3

**Prompt 3: "How to be brave. How can I love when I'm afraid to fall?"**

(Natasha)

This is what falling in love truly feels like, she realizes.

She thought she'd felt it with Clint; that long, slow slide that she was halfway down before she'd even realized what was happening.

She had no idea how wrong she was until now.

Because falling in love isn't slow. It isn't long or gentle. It's a freight train that barrels through your chest, leaving you breathless and overwhelmed.

She also had no idea that love at first sight existed. But apparently it does, because there's nothing else that explains how deeply and effortlessly she loves the baby in her arms.

_Her _baby. Her's and Clint's. Their little Anya.

She can't stop staring. She is in awe of the precious little girl that's finally centered and grounded her hectic life. She had no idea that was even possible.

When she tells Clint later that she loves Anya more than him, he gasps in mock outrage. She shrugs, gives him a teasing smirk. "I'd only kill for you," she informs him. "At most, I'd take a bullet."

"And Anya?" he asks, smoothing a hand over the infant's soft, red hair.

She looks up at him, all traces of teasing gone. "I'd die for her."


End file.
